


♦ Jailhouse Rock

by EvelynLawliet



Series: ♦ 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cops, Ghosts, Handcuffs, Hate to Love, M/M, nypd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:05:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynLawliet/pseuds/EvelynLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 13: Handcuffed Together</p><p>The worst one, in Dean’s humble opinion, was Castiel. First, what kind of name was that? It was almost understandable that the guy was a dick. Still, that wasn’t the problem. Castiel just held himself with that superiority Dean had hated ever since Sam started being bullied in middle school, and he just couldn’t believe someone like that was actually a cop. Also, he looked like he used his looks – yeah, he was hot, but that was a mere detail compared to the shit the guy certainly did – to get things to turn in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	♦ Jailhouse Rock

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wanted to post this to celebrate the start of season 10, but I won't be home tomorrow, so here it is! c: Hope you all like it!

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Dean Winchester was a very likable person, thank you very much. Aside from that, he was also one of the best police officers in the NYPD, and all of his partners loved him. Up until the point when his little brother was also accepted, Dean had had three partners in his five years of work, mainly because their boss, Victor Henricksen, didn’t like to see two people together for a long time; many guessed it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t maintain a relationship for more than a month.

When Sam first started, he was paired up with Lucifer, one of the three Novak brothers who worked at their station. The guys were all pricks in their own way, and Victor thankfully decided that Sam would work better with Dean in less than a week. They had been working on cases together for a year now, and Dean was sure they were the best team.

Of course, though, that wasn’t enough for Victor, who thought it would be a nice idea to have a partnership practice, as he called it. He gathered everybody in a gunshot training room, and Dean would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit suspicious. Normally Victor would just say who he wanted to be paired with whom and they had to find each other by themselves.

Unlike Dean, Sam was apparently having the time of his life. He approached every single person in the room, including the Novak jerks – _come on, Dean, they can’t all be that bad_ – and, surprising the blonde, they did seem to welcome Sam’s arrival. Even so, it didn’t make Dean hate them any less.

The worst one, in Dean’s humble opinion, was Castiel. First, what kind of name was that? It was almost understandable that the guy was a dick. Still, that wasn’t the problem. Castiel just held himself with that superiority Dean had hated ever since Sam started being bullied in middle school, and he just couldn’t believe someone like that was actually a cop. Also, he looked like he used his looks – yeah, he was hot, but that was a mere detail compared to the shit the guy certainly did – to get things to turn in his favor.

That and the fact that they had gone to school together and Castiel would never give Dean a chance to approach. Back then, the Winchester kid had had a crush on the Novak boy for a while, but whenever he tried to say anything, Castiel would walk away. It was like he knew when Dean would make a move, and after a while the green-eyed decided he was being avoided. After that, he had given up and spent the rest of his senior year jumping from bed to bed. Castiel was past, and Dean had thoroughly forgotten him.

Except for the part where he hadn’t. Spending two years crushing on someone does that to you, most of the times. Dean hated to admit it, but some part of him still felt compelled to get to know the blue-eyed because, although he didn’t wear eyeliner anymore, he was still the guy who had had Dean’s attention for the longest.

Considering all that, it was only logical that he would have reacted like he did. Victor had just put _handcuffs_ on both Dean and Castiel and announced they would be partners for the next six months, and that his partnership practice consisted on the new pairs being cuffed together the whole day, because it would make them trust each other more easily.

Dean thought that was the stupidest thing he had ever heard, but his statement didn’t have anything to do with handcuffs, but with being handcuffed with _Castiel_. Why? Why him? It could’ve been any of the other eleven cops in that godforsaken station, but no, it _had_ to be Castiel, it just _had_ to be.

“What’s the problem, Winchester?” Henricksen asked, his eyebrow raised. Aside from him, all of the other cops were watching Dean now, since he had been a little loud in his complaining. In fact, even Castiel was eyeing him like he was crazy, tilting his head to the side in that stupid way he still did after ten fucking years.

Clearing his throat, Dean gave a step further, pulling Castiel with him and sighing. “Look, this is all a great idea and everything, but don’t you think Sam and I are a good duo? I mean, we’ve closed enough cases last year to make up for all the ones he didn’t with Lucifer,” he tried reasoning, stopping himself from falling to his knees and begging because, yeah, that was something Dean would _definitely_ not do.

But Henricksen simply rolled his eyes. “I set the rules around here, and I say you and this specific Novak will be partners for the next six months, you read me?” Dean could see the anger behind his tone, so he nodded, keeping his head high in a gesture that didn’t try to prove his dominance, okay? “Good. And to see if we can find a way to fix your behavior, you and Novak will stay indoors today, doing paper work.”

So that was basically how Dean ended up trapped inside the station with Castiel not two feet away from him. Everybody else was working on new cases, so they were the only ones in the place, which somehow gave Dean the creeps. The station was pretty big, and he had watched enough horror movies to know that was the perfect scenario for a terrible killing. Also, he wasn’t sure if Castiel wasn’t a serial killer. Those blue eyes were damn right scary.

Realizing he was staring, Dean licked at his lips and turned back to his files. Although Henricksen had told them to do paperwork, Dean had an awesome brother who spent nights up working on it for the both of them, which meant he had absolutely nothing to do. He noticed, then, that Castiel was probably the Sam of his last partnership, since he had a pile of work on his side of the desk and a hand gripping his dark hair.

Not having anything else to do, Dean turned on the computer and started poking around the files to see what he could find. He stumbled upon something interesting five minutes into his search: a file with all the information to the offices who worked at that same station forty years ago, when he wasn’t even born.

“Hey, did you know a guy died in cell thirteen?” he told Castiel, chancing a glance at the other man. If they were going to be partners he might as well start socializing with him. “There were two officers here at the time, and they were playing a game they called Jailhouse Rock, where they placed bets on who could starve a prisoner to death first. Geez, that’s twisted,” Dean stated, twisting his nose as he read the information.

Jason Gatehouse was a murderer, for what he could see, and he had been in jail for nine months when the officers started with their game. The guy went crazy with the lack of food, and he killed himself with a piece of glass, resulting in his being buried underneath the bed of cell thirteen, since the cops didn’t want anybody to know what they had done. In fact, they even set the other prisoner – a bank robber – free so that he wouldn’t tell anybody about the events occurred.

“Why do you hate me so badly, Dean?” came Castiel’s voice, his tone way lower – and sexier – than Dean remembered from high school.

The words caught him off guard, making the Winchester almost fall from his chair. Frowning, he turned to his new partner. “What do you mean?” he inquired, faking innocence. Okay, perhaps he was being a little bit of a hypocrite, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t help it.

Sighing and throwing his pen on his paperwork in a sign on frustration, Castiel turned to look at him, and Dean wasn’t sure if he could stand the full power of those eyes concentrating only on his figure. “I know you overreacted earlier because of my being your new partner, and I’ve seen how you look at me. Did I do something to you? Because, like it or not, we’re stuck together for the next six months, and I like my job enough for not wanting it to be a burden.”

Shrugging, Dean ran a hand through his hair, like he did when he didn’t know what else to do with his body. What was he supposed to tell him? That he was still bitching over how Castiel very clearly rejected him back in the day? He was about to answer something stupid when the lights began flickering and he found an excuse to avoid replying.

“We should take a look at the fuse box so you can go back to your work,” Dean suggested, already standing up. Castiel stared at him for a while before following, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble to force an answer out of him. Truly, Dean was thankful for that; he was used to people trying to make him talk about feelings, but it always made him uncomfortable, and they almost never were successful.

They walked in silence to the back of the station, keeping a close distance so that the handcuffs wouldn’t pull them back towards each other. Still, when the lights went off suddenly, Dean stopped and Castiel must have kept on going, since the next thing Dean knew he had an armful of the raven haired man.

Obviously the lights decided to go back on that exact moment, forcing Dean to find himself trapped in Castiel’s gaze. It happened so often in high school that he didn’t even try to stop it or force the blue-eyed away. He just stayed there for a little moment, and he could’ve sworn Castiel was approaching him, until the lights went off again.

There was someone up there playing a fucking trick on them, and Dean was more than a little mad with whoever that was. Awkwardly, Castiel stood up and reached for his lantern as Dean did the same. They smiled a little embarrassingly at each other, continuing their search for the fuse box.

Although Dean had been working in the station for a long time now, they had never had such events, and therefore he had no fucking idea as to where the box would be. Thankfully, though, Castiel did. “I like knowing the places where I’ll have to spend most part of my days in case of emergencies like that,” he explained, holding his flashlight for Dean as the blonde tried to find the broken fuse.

“That’s smart of you,” Dean chuckled before pulling back from the box with a frown. “Well, apparently everything is alright here. All of the fuses are where they were supposed to be, which means I have no idea what could be causing the flickering,” he said, supporting his weight on the box with an arm and turning to face Castiel.

He wished he hadn’t, though, because the raven haired man had his eyes opened widely like he had just seen a ghost, and he was pointing his flashlight to a point just above Dean’s shoulder, his hand shaking. “I don’t want to look, do I?” the green-eyed asked Castiel, watching as the man shook his head.

Nodding, Dean bit his lips before taking a deep breath and spinning ninety degrees. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he yelled, watching the form of a black haired man in bloody clothes, glass cuts framing his face and neck. In his cheeks, Dean could just barely read the words Jailhouse Rock, which he recognized from being the name of the game the officers had played back in the day.

Swallowing, the blonde Winchester faced the ghost. “Jason Gatehouse?” Dean asked, to which the apparition answered by screaming at them and starting to fly in their direction. Realizing it would be a good idea to run away, Dean started pulling Castiel with him, towards cell thirteen. He had seen in movies that you should salt and burn the bones of a ghost to kill them. Also, there was a metal that repelled them, he just couldn’t remember which.

“Iron,” Castiel provided breathlessly, pointing at a chair with iron legs. Nodding to show he understood, Dean ran towards it and grabbed the furniture, throwing it at the ghost. It worked, and Jason disappeared in front of their eyes. “Okay,” the blue-eyed continued. “If I remember well from the book I read last week, we need a shovel, salt, fire, the keys that are in Henricksen’s office, and even more iron. I’ll go get the shovel in the backyard and you…Oh.” He looked down at their handcuffs and stopped.

Truly, Dean thought he could kiss him right then and there. He had no idea Castiel was also a monster nerd, and once the shock wore off, he looked pretty good at it. “We’ll do it together,” Dean told him with a smile. Castiel looked up at him, his blue eyes shining in the low light of their lanterns. He then nodded and waited for instructions. “Let’s take the legs out of the chair and take it with us to the backyard first.”

They did just that, and Dean decided he should tell Henricksen to buy better furniture for the station, because it had been too damn easy to break it. Afterwards, they stopped in Henricksen’s office and unlocked the cuffs, heading to the kitchen to get the salt before running towards the cell. The ghost was nowhere to be seen, and Dean didn’t know if he was thankful or terrified. In movies, when the monster disappeared it meant it would appear somewhere creepy, and he didn’t want to look like a scaredy-cat in front of Castiel.

“You watch the door and I’ll dig up our friend,” Dean said once they had already moved the bed in cell thirteen. As Castiel walked to the door of the cell, holding his chair leg like a baseball bat, Dean decided he’d thank Sam if they got out of this alive. If his brother hadn’t done the paperwork, Dean wouldn’t have searched the files. But then again, if he hadn’t searched the files, the ghost might have stayed dead.

Let him rephrase that: he was gonna kill Sam if they got out of this alive.

Just as Dean threw the salt on Jason’s stinking body after having dug him up, the cell’s door closed, trapping him inside and Castiel out. Something told Dean that he was in for a roller coaster ride as he searched his pockets for the box of matches they had gotten in the kitchen along with the salt.

“Dean!” Castiel screamed, making the blonde man turn to see the ghost flying towards him. He threw himself to the ground as he heard Castiel trying to open the cell. The ghost wasn’t very smart, though, since he didn’t notice how Dean was unarmed and the blue-eyed had iron on his hands, considering the fact that he forgot about Dean and flew towards Castiel.

When he found the matches, he heard the air being cut and knew his partner had struck the ghost. As fast as he could, Dean lit three of the matches and threw them at Jason’s body. The guy appeared in front of him only to be consumed by flames and get a ticket straight to Hell, where he belonged.

Exhausted, Dean leaned against the nearest wall and allowed his legs to give in as he tried to catch his breath. He registered the cell’s door being opened, but only realized it was Castiel when the raven haired man cupped his cheeks and started checking him for injuries. “Dean, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked, and Dean could hear the genuine concern in his tone, so he just stared at him for a moment. For some reason, that fact made Dean find the courage he was lacking and, before he had time to stop himself, he pulled Castiel towards him and placed their lips together.

At first, the raven haired man froze, but not even a whole second into the kiss he had his fingers pulling at Dean’s sand colored locks, trying to bring them even closer. When Dean pulled away to breathe, finding Castiel straddling his hips, he decided it was time to tell him about why he ‘hated’ him. “I had a crush on you in high school,” he confessed. “And every time I tried to approach, you avoided me. That’s why I _hated_ you, as you put it.”

Frowning, Castiel allowed his hands to wander towards Dean’s chest, curling them around his uniform shirt. “I hadn’t come to terms with who I am back then,” he explained. “You were my first male crush and it was hard for me to admit that I wanted you to fuck me into next week.”

Dean choked with his own saliva, almost dislodging Castiel from his last. “Shit, Cas, that’s not something you just say like it didn’t mean anything,” the blonde told him, watching as the blue-eyed man tried to find an opening in his shirt. “Cas. Cas. Cas! We just burned a dead body in this cell, you really want to have sex here?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Shrugging, Castiel finally forgot about the shirt to wander lower, palming Dean through his boxers. “We do have ten years to make up for. Besides, the fire made the room warm, which means we won’t be cold if we take your goddamn uniform off,” he reasoned, opening the button in Dean’s pants and slowly sliding his fly to expose his boxers.

Of course, Dean could’ve protested and stopped Cas, but taking in consideration that he had been waiting for that moment for ten years, he guessed it was okay to let the blue-eyed man do as he pleased. Dean made quick work of Cas’s pants as the raven haired pulled his cock free from his. He then took them both in hand, yanking a gasp out of Cas that he’d treasure for the rest of his fucking life.

As Cas hovered their lips together, just enough so that they could breathe each other’s air, Dean started pumping their lengths, shivering when Cas bit his bottom lip and pulled it towards him. That man was going to be the death of Dean, he was sure of it; especially once he moaned loud enough for the whole world to hear before landing on Dean’s neck and beginning to suck at it.

To be honest, Dean had never been more thankful for the fact that there was no one else – including prisoners – in their station that night. Cas tensed in his hand, and Dean knew he was close, so he thumbed the slit of their cocks, getting himself small and delicious noises from Cas, who was now thrusting erratically into his hand.

When Cas came, Dean was sure he had never seen anything that would compare to that moment in beauty. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back, and his lips parted slightly. The sight was enough for Dean to follow him with a breathless groan, pressing his forehead to the crook of Cas’s shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” the blonde Winchester let out, placing small kisses to the skin of Cas’s neck and loving the sweaty taste he found there.

Cas tapped his back affectively. “You may call me Cas,” he told him with a small chuckle that had Dean pulling him in for another kiss. Dean started to think about what other places he could find ghosts, because if that was the price he had to pay to have Cas, then you can call him Ghostfacer from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> Work also posted to my tumblr: evelynlawliet.tumblr.com . c:


End file.
